


Not All Heroes

by cococape



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Family Dynamic, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Magic, Modern Fantasy AU, Reincarnation, Supernatural - Freeform, Sweet, Techno wilbur twins - Freeform, adopted family, brain rot, i hope you enjoy, i needed it to leave my head but its so long, sleepy bois inc - Freeform, thanks for 200 followers on twitter!, this has been haunting me for days
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28131303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cococape/pseuds/cococape
Summary: It's difficult, once everything you thought you knew changed fundamentally.To go back to society. To go back and live normally.But maybe... you don't have to live normally.Maybe, when you have a few boys to care for, all you need is to just move forward.[Sleepy Bois Inc]
Comments: 23
Kudos: 174





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot. Whoops

She told him in another life he was a knight.

That in another life he was a warrior, a survivor. An adventurer. A pirate that defended the seas. That he has had many pasts, and in all of them he was anything other than ordinary, and that in this life, it should be the same.

But he was just Phil, and this was the 21st century, and to him this girl he had just met was just another stranger whom he came upon in happenstance, who he fell for, who told him fairytales about the cold and the ice and witches that could never be real, who fell for heroes so outlandish that they could only ever appear in legends. 

So when he asked for her contact information and she provided it, he didn’t think anything of it. 

But when the next morning he awoke surrounded by bird’s feathers and a false number in his phone, he realized it perhaps had been all too real after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Half a decade later, and nothing has changed. The man was still Phil, he was still as ordinary as people came, save for the wings on his back which seemed to only grow with age.

Half a decade later and he found himself hiking through the forest, friends left behind as he went on ahead, up on the path and down through the trees. The crisp air made his muscles twitch, ache for the freedom that society has trapped him in, to be able to glide and laugh and forget.

When had the city become his cage? It was like saying that nests confined the birds that slept there. It just didn’t make sense.

So perhaps it was a good thing that his mind began to wander, getting lost in the trees in the stead of his body. Get so lost that he made a misstep, a foot too close to the edge of the path that sent him sprawling, falling down the steep hill of sharpened rocks and pointed sticks to rip apart his jacket of spring green to tatters, dead leaves and dew dappled grass to soften his landings.

Phil swore at the stings of air brushing against the shallow cuts on his arms and legs as he stood, dusting the mud and dirt from his pants with a sigh. 

He expected to be alone, as one does when they’re deep within a forest, off the hiking path. So when he heard the crack of a twig and the rustling of leaves, his head snapped up, body tense in anticipation. But then… they relaxed, as he began to register the company he had with him.

They were two identical boys, no older than six. One lay asleep, nestled between the thick roots of the tree, while the other watched Phil with a caution that only wild animals could ever display, body posed to run or to fight, he wasn’t sure which.

They were obviously brothers, that much was clear with their dark eyes and dark hair. Either they were brothers or they were clones, and Phil knew for a certainty that technology had not advanced so far as to enable human duplication, though he himself could be said to be contrary to any advancements science could ever make. 

Slowly, he raised his arms up as he stood, a kind smile playing on his face.

“I’m not going to hurt you two.” He said softly, and those words seemed to be enough to let the guard of the boy falter, just for a moment. As if those were words he never expected to hear out of another human being.

“Are you lost?” Phil asked, quiet as to not stir the other from his slumber as he took an experimental step forward. “Where are your parents?”

“Gone.”

The child’s voice was startlingly deadpan, the word said with the inflection and tone that implied that they weren’t dead, no. But for all intents and purposes, they were more equal to strangers than flesh and blood to these kids.

The man couldn’t imagine any situation where a parent would leave their children in the forest alone. Couldn’t imagine any reason abandoning them in the wild to starve would be a good idea. 

The other boy shifted around in his sleep with a small moan, a small hand grabbing his brother’s wrist, dividing his attention.

“Techno…” He mumbled, the presence clearly a comfort as he drifted off into silence again. Phil’s chest ached at the sight, these two brothers who had no one but each other for company. Who would defend and fight for each other despite being so weak and so young that they could barely defend themselves.

There was no hesitation between the minute the idea came into his mind, and the second he manifested it into sound.

“Do you two need a place to stay?” He asked, kneeling to be eye level with the boy, who seemed to freeze up and stiffen in response. “Your name is Techno, right?”

The boy gave the barest of nods, and Phil smiled.

“Look, Techno. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I just…” He hesitated. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable knowing that you two are out here all alone. They’re saying it’s gonna snow tonight and…” He gave another pause, and a sigh. “Maybe just even for toni—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the young child got up from his place on the ground. Before Phil could even react, the boy’s arms were around him; thin, small, and cold. The man smiled, putting a warm, reassuring hand over his shoulders.

“Maybe for now,” He laughed, giving the kid a pat on the back as tears streamed silently down the child’s face in gratitude. “You can help me bring your brother up the path? And then afterwards, you can tell me your story if you’re comfortable.”

And the boy named Techno let go and nodded, wiping his eyes with his sleeve before turning to wake his brother with the news.


	3. Chapter 3

They had stayed for more than a night. And for that, Phil was grateful.

The first hour of their first day filled the quiet apartment with nothing but tension, as both boys kept their guards high in the strange unfamiliar space. As a man used to roommates, Phil luckily had access to a second room for them to use, yet with a lack of belongings the room they stayed in was left bare and empty.

For much of the night, Phil lay awake, wings ruffling and twitching at the slightest scuffle or noise from the other room, worry seeping into his body that perhaps by the next morning he would find the boys gone, the window left open as they escaped like rogues on the rooftops in stories.

So when the next morning, he peeked into the room and saw them curled up side by side in their bed, his heart warmed so much that it was able to combat the freshly fallen snow that fought to drop the temperature within his home.

He learned that the other’s name was Wilbur, with a personality to contrast his brother’s. Though both were reserved in their own way, Wilbur was still louder, still had his own way of being seen that didn’t disturb the environment around him. His brother was offensive against everything that wanted to hurt them in the world, knives posed to fly at the wrong word. But Wilbur was defensive, his words a shield to protect him from the violence that might come his way. 

He learned later that Techno was protective of his younger brother, sure. But living out in the wilds for so long — they never supplied a number and he never asked — made him more tired than feral, made him simply more wary than violent. In those first few days, a loud noise would merely startle him, the slightest bit of fear creeping into the mask that he’d kept up for so long. But the more he began to trust the man, the more he began to show himself to a world that he felt wanted to hurt him. So when a thunderstorm came and Phil found himself comforting the trembling boy until the rain stopped assaulting their windows in the early morning, he was left startled but unsurprised. Happy that he was beginning to be trusted by these boys. Sad, that someone would ever leave them alone.

He let them call him their father, if they preferred it rather than Phil. And it was Wilbur who jumped on it immediately, who practised calling him different names until he landed on dad, the word feeling right on his tongue, and equally right as it floated in the air. But Techno was the one who continued to call him Phil, though on the occasion he would have Freudian slips and call him dad as well. And on those days, Phil laughed, feeling the bond that brought them closer together, closing the gap between strangers and friends.

And yet still, when it came to his wings, he was apprehensive. Where once he let them free out of his jacket within the darkened confines of his home — curtains drawn and careful as to not make any noise — he now kept them trapped between the skin on his back and the tight fabric that prevented them from revealing themselves. He took care to never let the boys know, going so far as to hiding the massive grey feathers that occasionally littered the floors. And when every night his muscles and bones let out a soft sigh of relief as they were freed, he remembered that it was all to give them a source of normalcy, in their situation that was perhaps so far flung from normal.

But of course they eventually found out. It perhaps was even a miracle that he was able to keep the ruse up for so long.

It was a few months later, in a night so unexpected, caught when he was at his most vulnerable. He believed there to be no reason for them to need him that night, with no storms brewing for miles and the night slated to be warm and comfortable enough for them to sleep on their own. And he thought that with each other by their side, they would never be lonely. The closest bond they had was to each other, their reflection, their mirror, their other selves.

But sometimes when all you have is yourself for company, it is never truly enough to combat the heavy cloud of loneliness that drifted over them both.

So when — in the middle of the night — Phil awoke to the sound of his door quietly creaking open, terror clawed its way from his chest into his throat, an absolute fear that his nightmares would become reality. And those fears only amplified at the soft and quiet familiar voice saying:

“Dad?”

He kept his eyes closed, kept his breathing calm, but curse those delicate muscles on his back that flinched at the sound when he tried so hard to stay perfectly still.

“I think he’s sleeping Wil. Come on, let’s go back.”

“But he said we can ask him for anything.” 

The man could hear the soft creaks of the floorboards as one of them — he assumed Wilbur — approached quietly behind him.

“I don’t think that means we can wake him up though.”

“We don’t have to wake him up, Techno!” The boy’s high voice whispered, dangerously close for the man’s comfort. “We just—“

It didn’t hurt — not exactly — when Wilbur’s small hand pushed down slightly on his dark grey wings. But it was startling, and it was enough for him to bite down hard on the inside of his lip to keep himself from uttering any kind of noise. But it was difficult to keep his breathing steady in the dead silence, difficult to stay still, difficult to not imagine what kind of shock or horror showed up on the faces of those boys when they came to their own conclusions of the nature of the man who took them in.

He heard the shuffle of fabric getting quieter, the sounds of their footsteps breaking the silence that held them in place, and Phil only felt the dread that filled his heart and threatened to spill over. The kind of feeling he hadn’t felt for years, when he woke up to the realization that everything fundamental that he had ever known had changed.

But then, he felt the disturbance of the blankets on top of him. Could hear two small bodies crawl under the covers with him, soft breaths and quiet hisses he couldn’t quite make out. And when he finally built up the courage to crack an eye open in the dark, he could just make out the outlines of the two boys, curled up side by side beside him. Unflinching. Unafraid.

With a small smile, he draped an arm over them both, a small hug as he too fell back into a deep slumber.

They asked the next morning, of course. The dreaded question. When he was preparing them their sausages and eggs, jacket tight over his torso.

But it wasn’t “What are you”, and it wasn’t “Are you human” either.

It was the loud and excited “Are you an angel?” from Wilbur, whose eyes were alight with an innocent hope and possibility that made Phil chuckle.

It was the quiet and curious “Why do you hide them in the house?” from Techno, whose expression showed a worry and concern for his health and well being that made Phil melt from the inside.

It would be a few more years until he told them the truth, when they were pre-teens and too old for the various lies he fed them of his origins. That the wings were an unwanted gift from a girl he’d never met. That in a way, he hated them, the unexpected way they appeared, the gorgeous pair of feathered things that had grafted themselves onto his back like a parasite. The way they seemed to have a mind of their own, the way they reacted to things too easily when all he wanted to do was hide his own thoughts and emotions away.

But by that time, he had realized that he was not the only abnormal one in the little trio that they had made for themselves. That all of them in this little family were anything but normal, and it’s been that way from the start.


	4. Chapter 4

He had taken them to a family cabin.

It was the summertime, and the boys had just turned 9. By that time, years of being mistaken for each other began to give them the urge to be individuals, and not two of the same person. Perhaps for children, being identical in all recognizable features was fun, but they were growing older now, and they felt that their image should reflect themselves.

And Phil was glad, because the older they got, the harder it became to tell the two apart. Wilbur was very slowly becoming calmer, though his charismatic nature was just beginning to make an appearance in his speech and mannerisms. Techno on the other hand was slowly becoming louder, his shell cracking as he began experimenting with opening himself up to others who weren’t his brother.

In short, they were beginning to learn from each other, but in turn were becoming the same person. In short, they were twins that were too similar for the comfort of even themselves.

Phil let them roam free in the surrounding area, a forest unlike the hiking trail he found them in oh so long ago. He watched them run into the shadows of the trees, the bright green grass matching the colour he loved so much, the colour of the jacket on his arms and over his shoulders.

It was their idea to return to the forest for a few days in the summer. He had a suspicion for the reason why.

They asked him if he was capable of flying once, and he laughed it off as a ridiculous idea. But by then, they were capable of reading the man like an open book, perhaps more open than he would like. And he saw the way they looked at each other conspiratorially, an understanding passing between them silently. He wondered what they saw in his response, whether his wings fluttered or twitched on his back at the thought, as the prospect of the possibility entered his mind, that perhaps he could, if only he ever had the courage to try.

So perhaps this was their idea of encouragement; a time away from the city, amongst the trees where no one could see them. Where he could — if he wanted — try stretching his wings and fly.

And some part of him was curious. Some dreamlike part of him thought that maybe he could, that the possibility was there. But he also knew that logically, it was impossible. Logically, wings were not enough to bring a human being airborne. Logically, humans were not supposed to and should never leave the land.

Clearly, logic was not something that he was built out of though, as his wings ruffled under his jacket, suddenly claustrophobic. With a sigh, he removed it, the fabric a binding that he finally untied, muscles aching from being trapped for so long.

He had to admit that there was a freedom to it, the simple act of feeling each feather being brushed by the wind as he looked out from the deck to the lake beyond the trees. But still, doubt and sanity kept him grounded, kept him glued to the wooden floor even as he felt the soft down feathers brush against the back of his neck like a dare.

It was what made him sit down on the steps that led to the grassy road, watching the wind ripple that water’s surface, the sun creating an effect that left light dancing on the waves like stars.

He didn’t know when he began to drift off, only that he was awoken by the sounds of the twins in the distance, calling out his name as they ran out of the forest.

“Phil!”

“Dad!”

He pushed himself up against the wooden banister that he leaned against, aching with a pain that only he could ever feel. He stood and stretched with a yawn, and the muscles on his back did the same, spreading to their full wingspan of unkempt feathers before settling back calmly once more as he prepared to greet the boys.

But the closer they came, the more Phil began to realize that they had brought something else with them.

Something small and orange found itself tucked in Wilbur’s arms as he ran, Techno coming close behind with a matching speed. Something that looked to be the size of a baby… Something furry and—

“Look what I found!” Wilbur cried proudly, lifting the creature up so that he could get a proper look, bewilderment and shock preventing him from reacting with anything but utter confusion.

Because what Wilbur had held in his arms was a fox, a wee thing that didn’t struggle, didn’t fight in the child’s arms, only seemed to stare miserably into Phil’s blue eyes as he was shown off like a prize that was won at a county fair.

Too many questions filled his head, thoughts like the sound of a thousand bees deafening him. He attempted to get a word out, but the only sound that left his mouth was the beginnings of words turning into air, silence, and just noises of complete bafflement.

“I told you he wouldn’t like it.” Techno said matter-of-factly, and in response Wilbur frowned, holding the poor creature to his chest, tears welling up in his eyes.

“No! It’s not—“ Phil said in a panic, words still struggling to reach his tongue. “I just— How’d you catch… it? I—”

“His name is Fundy.” the boy said brightly, the tears that were going to fall down his cheeks suddenly gone. “He _told_ me.”

The man laughed at that, the tension suddenly releasing from him as he suddenly understood. It was a child’s game, it was their imagination, it was the boy playing pretend and getting lucky. Naming the fox after a character from a cartoon or a television show, playing a game of pretend—

Except the kids were dead silent, looking at each other in confusion. And Phil stopped laughing, suddenly concerned.

“You— you’re being serious.”

“Wilbur says that Fundy’s looking for his parents.” Techno added helpfully. “And you helped us—”

“I took you in—!”

“Can we adopt Fundy, Dad?” Wilbur interjected suddenly, brightly, hopefully. “If we can’t find his parents of course, and then if he doesn’t have a mum and a dad like us — not saying you’re not our dad Dad, but—”

Phil very badly wanted to say no. In every way, there was no good reason as to why a wild animal should be taken out of its environment and brought into an apartment complex that he’s pretty sure doesn’t even allow pets anyways. And plus, the more he watched the poor creature beginning to regret its life choices, the more he found himself sympathizing with the animal more than he did with the twins. He could understand the disappointment it felt when it got caught, the mental agony it must be suffering through from the humiliation of being shown off…

“Wait, What do you mean by _told_ you?” He asked, the question he wanted to ask finally clicking into place in his head. “You keep saying that the fox told you these things.”

“Yeah!” Wilbur bobbed his head without elaborating further. Like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like it explained itself.

“Like you’re hearing stuff in your head or…?”

“No?” The boy laughed nervously, glancing back at his brother. “Can’t you hear them too, Dad?”

Phil hesitated, before crouching down to eye level with the younger child. And even then, he still paused, trying to collect his thoughts.

“Wilbur,” He said, carefully choosing his words. “Can you talk to animals?”

“Am I not supposed to?”

That was more than enough confirmation for the winged man, who didn’t even bother answering the question, who stood up in complete silence and walked into the house for another cup of coffee.

That was not the information he expected to learn today.

“So can we keep him?” The child’s confused voice carried into the room as he sat down, warming his face with the aroma of roasted beans. Phil could hear Techno chanting encouragingly in the background; “Keep him! Keep him! Keep him!”

“Give me a minute.” He called back, dread building in him as he began to think about what he was going to say. How he was going to explain that understanding anything that wasn’t human or a machine wasn’t normal, and how he was going to explain that they just couldn’t bring random wild animals home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/20/20  
> So. That stream, huh.


	5. Chapter 5

Wilbur’s incident ended on a higher note than Phil could’ve ever hoped for.

Knowing that he was a special made the boy suddenly very interested in making full use of his abilities. When once he would talk energetically about the things he had learned and experienced that day, he would now and again tell the man and his brother about the snippets of conversations that he overheard from the wildlife that surrounded them.

Admittedly, getting transcripts of birds and rodents discussing the locations of food became tiresome after a while, and by the pained expressions on Techno’s face at the dinner table, he could tell the brother was beginning to realize the same. But neither had the heart nor the soul to tell the younger as such, as it was something that made him happy, something that made him feel extraordinary and different from the rest of the world, and kept him energized throughout the day. And for a child, those were important, those made kids feel happy. They were what fueled their wide smiles and eyes bright full of hope, feelings that children could cling onto quite easily when they slipped through the hands of adults like fish.

Oddly enough, Phil never found Techno jealous of his brother, always sitting in corners and couches, laughing at jokes and making jokes of his own. The elder of the two never seemed quite bothered that he was the outlier, the only normal one in their trio that was already so strange. But still, he couldn’t help but feel guilty, knowing the feeling of being an outsider, even if the world didn’t know it. Still, the man wished there was something he could do to help ease the boy, to make him comfortable in a place that was his own home.

But it was winter once again, and the boys were 10, Christmas approaching them so fast that none of them even had time to blink. 

The holidays with them were unconventional, Phil found. The first year, he tried to get them presents, but it seemed that they were more grateful for the home and the care that he provided than any objects he could ever buy for them. So since then, their winter months were spent wandering Christmas markets instead, the man watching the boys marvel at the glittering gems and rocks that the vendors had for sale, huddling together on snow covered benches as they drank their small cups of hot cocoa. And then afterwards, they would approach the massive tree in the center square, looking at the white branches. 

He still remembered the first time, when Techno’s eyes widened at the sight of the sheer size of the tree and the ornaments that adorned it, tugging at Phil’s coat and asking with worry what would happen if it all toppled over. And in response, Phil knelt on the wet and freezing ground and assured the boy that everything would be alright. That if it ever happened they both had him to protect them from harm.

He still remembered the first time, when Wilbur’s eyes widened at the height and the colours all situated in one place, the noise and the sound of the people and the music clashing loudly around them, yet quiet enough that it was yet to be a bother. And he tugged at Phil’s coat and asked him quietly if he had ever perched up there and surveyed the land from above, the powdered streets like a snow globe recently shaken. And in response, Phil laughed and ruffled the boy’s hair and told him no, but the mere thought made his wings tremble, the potential and wishes crying out in his mind to be manifested and made real.

Last year was the first year where the man tried getting them gifts, and watching Wilbur’s face light up as he ripped apart the wrapping and opened the box within gave him a sense of joy and warmth that kindled a flame within him. Hearing the happiest “Thank you!” that Phil ever heard from the child as he pulled out a ragdoll fox made him smile as the boy held it tight to his chest.

Of course, he named it Fundy, after the fox he had met that summer. Of course he kept it and loved it and protected it, even years after he’d outgrown it.

Watching Techno’s face contort into shock and surprise when he merely received the gift was enough to make Phil’s heart melt in his chest, the boy staring up at him for a moment as if waiting for permission before tearing the packaging apart. And when he saw the stack of books, his confusion turned into a smile, as he hugged Phil like he had all those years ago, though now it was out of a familial love rather than comfort. 

Of course, he devoured those books near immediately, but they forever remained in his possession, at least one carried everywhere he went, even after he’d grown bored of it.

These bouts of warmth, these boys that he couldn’t help but care so much for. They were what kept the darkness at bay, his past out of his mind. They were what chased the memory of the girl away when it came time for the snow to fall, when the dreams brought him stories on the coldest of nights.

Of battles that never happened. Wars that were never fought. Friends that never existed, and yet he cried out for them all the same.

Of coronations, as he was crowned. Of celebrations as he was knighted, or of feasts as he brought the head of the monster home. Dances he could never name but always knew by heart. Songs that he didn’t remember but could sing like a drunken tune.

Of the ice witch, brushing her slender fingers on the cheek of her prince, her knight, her hero, her fingers like icicles on his bare skin. And in every iteration, he was different. Yet she always remained the same.

They were dreams, he knew that. He reassured himself of it.

And yet unlike dreams, they followed him for days afterwards, through the unfamiliar tunes he hummed under his breath, or through the faces of strangers on the street. His head would jerk at the slightest cold breeze, paranoia filling his mind as he searched for no one, or at least nothing that would ever come to answer him.

They were fairytales too elaborate for him to create himself, he would later realize as he began to tell them to the boys, passing them as bedtime stories. They were too linear for them to be nonsense. They were too vivid, too detailed. Too much of too many things to ever be described as “just a dream”.

And yet, he refused to even contemplate that it could be otherwise.

It was one of those days that he woke up in a cold sweat, a sword piercing his heart and betrayal whispering in his ear. The cold entering his room and freezing his skin, a hand still reaching up to feel the silky strands of the frost covered hair between his fingers before his brain could even register what he was doing.

It left him with the lingering dregs of frustration. It left him with a wish and a longing he never desired.

It left him feeling more hatred towards the unnatural feathers on his back as they trembled from the cold, his anchor to a life that never existed and a girl he wanted to forget.

But the whispers and giggles that passed through the thin walls whisked those thoughts away, replacing them with a soft and quiet curiosity. They were the sounds of secrets being passed, of a bond tightly knit, providing with it its own sense of magic, the kind that came from the charm of being hidden from the rest of the world.

“Do it again!”

He couldn’t help but overhear them, for though they were whispering, they were still children, and children couldn’t help but be loud, unarmed with the knowledge to prevent their voices from being carried.

“But it’s so hard, Wil,” Techno whined, and yet Phil could still hear the smile and pride sneaking its way into the elder’s voice. “I can’t.”

“But you can try!” Wilbur’s response was pushy, urgent. Not unempathetic per se, but it was clear that whatever he wanted, he was willing to do anything to receive. “It was so cool!”

“I don’t know how.”

"Come on! Do it again!"

Phil stifled a laugh at the sound of their conversation as his bare feet landed on the wooden floor. The cold of it was like touching down on a lake frozen over, sending a jolt down his spine and his mind back into his imaginary world of sleep. 

Of a forest covered knee deep in snow. Of a blizzard without fire. Of a voice, whispering in his ear.

He shook the image away with a groan, wiping the sleep away with the heel of his palm. He got up, a yawn escaping him and lingering in the air as the man left to greet the boys on this unusually early morning.

The door to their room was closed, and yet he could hear them as loudly and as clearly as if there were no barriers between them. Wilbur’s laughter — high and bright and laced with excitement — danced in the first light, contrasted the calm sighs and weak arguments of his older brother. 

Phil’s hand rested quietly on the doorknob just as the laughs reached its peak and a quiet distorted voice went:

“Don’t tell Phil.”

It made the man hesitate, the once easy smile that he dawned faltering into concern. Slowly, he let go, his hand meaning to simply hover, quiet and unsure.

But curse the old screws and rusted bolts that jittered in their sockets, the sound like a thunderclap that froze the blood in all three of them. Curse the tension that hung in the air, that killed the positivity and good humour that once occupied the home.

“Good morning boys!” Phil’s cheery voice was the one that broke the silence first, as if the thing they were hiding did not make his heart drop, the sound like an abyss made into audio waves. Like a new moon freshly risen from the horizon, stamping out all light for miles. Like the shadows that hid the darkest evils in the human subconscious, manifested into physical form in the corner of a bedroom. 

It was a voice that instilled fear.

But it was also quiet, the request spoken so softly and gently it counteracted the way the voice continued to silently echo in the mind afterwards. As if it itself were afraid, afraid of being a terrible thing that brought terror in its wake, afraid of only ever being a creature of nightmares.

“If it’s a bad time—” He continued — suddenly seeing the road ahead with more uncertainty than he had before — when he heard Wilbur’s loud voice slice through his words like a knife as the door swung open.

“Dad! Dad!” 

The mere sound was enough to brighten even the oldest of the lights above them, and turn all creaks of the floorboards into quiet and renounced sighs. And it was enough to crack a smile on Phil’s face, as he looked down at the prideful young boy.

But as he caught a glimpse into the room, the man could feel his body go numb despite the warmth of the air around them. And as Wilbur stepped aside excitedly, he could almost feel the blood drain from his face and imagine the floor disappearing underneath him, suspending him in a state of freefall.

“Look! Techno’s special too!”

The creature that greeted him within the room was — for a lack of a better term — a beast. A thing still smaller than he, and yet his presence seemed to fill the room with nothing but a sense of dread, of a danger yet to reveal itself, a tension that froze the air, even perhaps time itself.

And when it turned its head, Phil saw the snout. The tusks. The amber that lit up the darkened eyes that seemed to pierce his soul and spill his secrets bare for all to see. 

And all that he could see were his dreams.

Of chases in forests, of sword of various sizes in his hands. Of bounties well deserved, of villages razed. Blood on the hands of cold and unfeeling monsters, and the power that rushed into Phil’s wounded hands as he landed the final blow.

He could recall it as clearly as if it were a memory, despite it being a figment of his imagination. He could feel his arm instinctually twitch towards a sword that wasn’t there and the calm panic that entered his veins with the adrenaline pumping into his heart.

But the more he watched this impossibility in his apartment, the more he began to notice the small things. The way its claws lightly grazed the wooden ground, the way it was hunched over, with its back turned to the door. The way it tried to make itself seem small, the way its pink ears folded in uncertainty.

The way it refused to look him in the eyes.

And this image — this show of weakness and fragility — brought another scene to his mind; One of a warm autumn day, of bright leaves falling onto the ground like rain as he ran into the trees with desperation, heart aching. But not for the people behind him, with their pitchforks and cries of vengeance to the demon that took their homes, but instead to the creature itself; the young king, the cursed man, a ruler who said the wrong thing to the wrong person, and was forced to pay the price.

“Techno?”

He could remember finding the mouth of the cave, of coaxing him out with words of kindness instead of hate. He could feel the fur under his hands as he calmed the man down, and could see the gleam of his blade as he turned it against the villagers who sought only for their demise. 

And as the beast flinched and looked up with wide amber eyes, Phil realized with a jolt that it was the king that the boy more resembled, not the countless monsters he’d slain before. That despite how he seemed, he was still Techno, the eldest twin, the boy whose eyes were hard to mask the terror underneath, who kept his brother alive in the forest all those years ago. That the boy was still the same underneath the form he took, and that despite the aura of death he brought about, he was the child that Phil took in and cared for as his own.

The winged man chuckled, offering a hand to the boy.

“I’m glad that at least you’re not being left out.”

And Techno — after a moment of frozen shock — ran into Phil’s startled arms, holding him tight and never letting go.

And it only took a moment for Wilbur to join in and do the same with a laugh of joy at the scene; of strangers more stranger than fiction together in a group hug, of a trio who cared for each other as more than friends.

Perhaps all they needed now was a fourth to join them.


End file.
